Rise of the Obsolete
by goingthruthemotions
Summary: He died, didn't he? Shot down by Kenobi on Utapau. But all warriors can rise again. And despite waking up fifteen years in an era unknown to him, Grievous plans to rise higher than ever. Will he aid the Rebellion? Or will he destroy them from the inside, and reassemble his Droid Army to see the Empire fall? One way or another, he intends to reignite the Separatist cause.
1. The Awakening

**_A/N: So this idea had been clicking in my brain for awhile, and I started wondering how Grievous could've been portrayed if he hadn't been killed off. His perspective is one I haven't particularly worked with so I relied on the Legends but R &R please. _**

_—_

 _Pain._

Yes. _That_ was the word to describe the excruciating, yet unsettlingly still feeling.

 _Pain._

Such a vague, yet simple term. But it was the correct one.

 _Pain._

The word had echoed endlessly, repeatedly bouncing off the invisible walls within his disoriented mind. Over and over again, the mantra sounding almost as monotonous as his entire droid army. A cycle that never seemed to end.

Pain, pain, _pain._

The word rang so violently in his head, that if his ears weren't already damaged as they were, _and_ covered by his insufferable mask, he would've clawed them out.

However, this type of pain was…strange. Welcoming, almost. It wasn't physical pain. There were no burning or torturous sensations. Although, it _was_ disturbingly different from the kind he experienced throughout his life. Like on that fateful day of his shuttle crash, when he had to have his organic limbs removed to be replaced with the cybernetics in order to keep him alive.

No, that feeling, that _pain,_ was raw.

Merciless.

This, however, was something entirely new to him. This…this was a form of mental pain. But it was _consuming._ It was as if a part of him could feel the pain, but another part of him simply couldn't. Like it was there, but wasn't there. He felt as though he himself was conscious, but his cybernetic body was just... _shut down,_ and his mind was drifting aimlessly into oblivion. Like something was missing.

Like something was _wrong._

He felt…trapped. Trapped in the inescapable barriers of his mind. Trapped in the black swarm that threatened to overpower his barriers.

Several questions crossed and rammed into his brain all at once. Where was he? Why couldn't he open his eyes? Why did they feel so heavy? Was he even alive? If he was, why couldn't he move? Why was his memory so... _foggy?_ Was this how death felt?

His internal questions and thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a muffled, almost inaudible noise. Though his cybernetic hearing was slightly inoperative at the moment, he could faintly hear the conversation taking place between someone and…a _medical droid?_ It sounded strangely like one of his obnoxious EV models he used as his medical assistant in the early days of the war.

EV-A4-D was it?

He never took the time to remember such little things. He always found that specific droid _exceedingly_ irritating, with its constant sarcastic quips and comments, but the assistant really knew how to do its job. However, that EV doctor had been destroyed by Master Fisto.

Fisto.

 _Jedi._

Images flooded through his brain as he slowly, but surely began to remember the bits and pieces of his memory when he was fully awake and…

What's the word…

 _Functional._ Yes, functional. But to him, the word made him seem like a mindless droid, which he was _most_ _definitely not._ His blood always seemed to boil like the lava banks of Mustafar when he was called a droid, rather than the term cyborg, which he found most preferable. People tended to forget he was a _person,_ that there was someone behind the mask, but public opinion never particularly mattered to him. As long as they knew which buttons _not_ to push.

His head started to throb agonizingly as the memory of a particular Jedi pierced and sliced through his mind like a blade.

 _Kenobi._

His hatred for the man was no secret. Instead of pushing his buttons, Kenobi practically _ran them over._ After all, he was the arrogantly perfect, "peacekeeping" General. He inwardly scoffed at the name the hypocritical Jedi claimed themselves to be. They claimed they weren't soldiers, that they weren't warriors, but they had proven themselves otherwise when they attacked his own home planet long ago. When they refused to help his own people who were starving and suffering, and caused the planet's death toll to rise drastically.

And they did it long before the war even started.

Long before he became this…monstrosity.

They were more like warmongers rather than peacekeepers. Each and every planet they supposedly "liberated," was always submerged in mounds of rubble and debris as soon as the Jedi and their _precious_ Republic were done invading it. They left marks and scars rather than peace and serenity on those planets. And yet they had the _audacity_ to argue in their pointless and tedious Senate that the _Separatists_ chose to continue the Clone War. To argue that they want "peace."

If they really wanted so-called _peace,_ they would have surrendered three years ago.

However, the Republic had always seemed to confuse the word "peace" with "quiet." To them, peace is when every being lives under the jurisdiction of their corrupt government. To him, and to the Separatist organization, that's quiet. But he had yet to care about corruption. So why start now?

 _Peace is a lie,_ someone had told him once, not long ago. Someone who was intelligent, sinister, but also arrogant to an extent. Yet his mind couldn't quite place who the person was.

Strange.

He knew the person definitely hated Kenobi, almost as much as he did. His name was Maul, was it not? Yes, the hellish red and black demon, the one who made that _cult,_ or the Shadow Collective, as others had called it.

He preferred the term cult.

It didn't matter. Kenobi was weak. Yet the Jedi managed to nearly destroy him with _his own blaster._ As a previous Kaleesh warrior, dying at the hands of an enemy who was using _your_ weapon was probably the most shameful way to die. But _was_ he dead? His lungs were basically on fire when he got shot, along with all his other organs, so he was quite surprised that he was conscious as of now. Or at least he _thought_ he was conscious.

Or was this how the afterlife felt?

Suddenly he found the answer to one of his questions. If he _was_ dead, he probably wouldn't be able to think, or even _feel_ anything at all. But if he was _alive,_ he would be able to open his eyes, no? If he had to make a guess, he would say he was on the verge of death, clinging to life like there's no tomorrow. Which there probably won't be for him.

Either way, his rage towards the destruction of his cybernetic body was still ever present, enough to keep him from giving into unconsciousness. First the Jedi took his organic limbs from him, and now his cybernetics. They've already stolen so much, that they might as well have taken the entire _galaxy._

When… _if_ he awoke, would he find his body scorched and unfixable? Would he be considered no longer valuable to the Separatists? Would… what's his name?

 _Lord Sidious._

Yes. Would Lord Sidious dispose of him?

He was determined, no, he was _dedicated_ to hunting down Kenobi, and all the other Jedi who took his body from him, and left him utterly useless. They will pay their debts with their _lives._

Whenever one of his strategies didn't go as planned, his first instinct was always to flee. Dooku always called it "cowardly."

Yet when Dooku was face to face with Skywalker and Kenobi, he didn't flee from the confrontation and it cost him his life. So in the long run, being _cowardly_ pays off wonderfully, because you get to live to crush your opponents another day.

So looking back on his decisions, he was shocked that he didn't pull his "cowardly" move when he was on Utapau with Kenobi.

Now that he closely thought about it, perhaps Sidious didn't _want_ him to.

It was very rare for him to have an actual _conversation_ with Sidious, and he hardly ever spoke with Dooku about the mysterious hooded man, but Dooku had always referred to him as his master.

That was where he questioned his _own_ place in Sidious' plans. Yes, he took orders from Dooku. Some _ignorant_ civilians would even wrongfully argue that the old Force user was his "master."

So if he were to look into the perspective of Dooku being his master, and Sidious being Dooku's master, did it mean that Sidious was his master as well?

He always supposed not.

But that was _his_ opinion, and perhaps he wasn't seeing the bigger picture.

Throughout the war, he had this sensation, this _feeling_ that maybe Dooku was using him, that maybe Dooku _and_ Sidious were using him. But he never knew what they were most likely using him _for,_ so he either pushed the thought from his mind completely, or denied it until he forgot about what he was denying.

Well, that didn't matter now.

He always thought of Dooku as an unwanted anchor, always weighing him down from his true potential. His death was a step forward for him. And it didn't seem like Sidious had paid any mind to him at first, but he knew better now.

He had enough time on his hands to think about anything he may have dismissed in the past due to the chaos of the war.

And now that he _was_ actually thinking about it, realization struck him like the blaster bolt Kenobi shot that ripped through his organs in an instant. He now realized he _had_ been used.

Sidious had most likely given the Jedi a clue to where he was hiding on Utapau, and led them right to him. He had been merely a disposable pawn since the beginning. And it seemed he had reached the end of the board. So Sidious would _definitely_ dispose of him now, since he tried to permanently prevent him from interfering with whatever plans he has before.

That adds another enemy to the _long_ list.

The thought of hearing all his enemies before him scream and plead for mercy, including the deceitful Sidious, brought satisfaction to his distant mind.

He survived yet another ordeal that was meant to destroy him. And he means to come back stronger than he ever was before.

Unidentifiable voices suddenly entered and echoed through his head. Several of them he was unable to hear, but there were some he was able to piece together.

 _"Jedi,"_ an unrecognizable voice whispered throughout his mind. It was audible, but it sounded remote, like there was a great distance in between him and the voice. As if the blockade that was his mind was preventing it from crossing.

 _"Killer,"_ said another, sounding much closer that time.

Jedi Killer. Ironic. That's exactly what he was and always would be. Ever since the Yam'rii crisis, or the Huk War as some called it, he was devoted to ridding the galaxy of the Jedi. If you can't kill cancer, cut it out entirely.

The hiss of another voice specifically caught his attention, as this particular voice sounded oddly familiar, as if it had penetrated through his supposedly impenetrable mind.

 _"Arise Grievous."_

He felt the anvils on his eyelids lift after what felt like an eternity, and his eyes snapped open.

Grievous no longer felt pain. Any trace of that feeling suddenly vanished from his mind. Only one feeling remained.

 _Vengeance._


	2. Chapter 2: Choose Your Enemies Wisely

_**A/N:**_ ** _Well I'm back! I just wanted to say thank you to all of you who took the time out of your days to follow and review my story. You guys really motivated me to continue this even during regents week. I'm pretty excited to see where this goes._**

—

There was a disturbance in the Force.

Normally, there would be minor tremors, like when a child is born, or when someone he has been keeping track of left a planet they were previously on. But the shifts became louder and stronger, each day that passed. He didn't know the source or location of these sensations, as there was a great distance between him and the source. They were less of a major issue, and more of a nuisance. But this was no tremor nor was it a nuisance.

This was a _disturbance._

Even Lord Vader had enough sense to feel the distortion of the his apprentice didn't voice it, Emperor Palpatine was able to feel Vader's confusion. Anakin Skywalker's inquisitive demeanor had been completely erased as Palpatine showed him the consequences of questioning his motives repeatedly.

No, he did not want Vader as his pupil just to abuse him, but all of his apprentices at one point had to be put in check.

"Lord Vader," Palpatine croaked, almost hissed menacingly. "Do you feel the… _disturbance_ in the Force?"

The more machine than man in question knelt down at being addressed. "Yes, my master. The Force has shifted." Vader's answer was short and straightforward but the question might as well have been rhetorical. Of _course_ he had felt it.

"It has done more than _shifted,_ my apprentice," Sidious corrected, a tinge of aggravation in his voice. Vader, still kneeling, resisted rolling his eyes underneath his mask. His master had always found opportunities to criticize him, even if the _"correction"_ was unnecessary. _Not even Obi-Wan corrected me this much,_ the Anakin in him internally voiced.

Vader mentally slapped the small piece of his former self away. These past few hours he's been going back and forth. Sometimes he thought like Vader, the dark apprentice of Lord Sidious, and other times he thought like Anakin Skywalker, the good man with a good heart who had lost it all. Before the mental war between Anakin and Vader started again in his mind, his master's _soothing_ voice echoed in his helmet, much to his annoyance.

"Something is stirring across the galaxy. Can you sense it?" Sidious asked, his frustration growing rapidly. Vader's swirling thoughts suddenly halted as he attempted but failed to pinpoint the planet or sector of this disturbance.

"Yes, my master." Vader was desperately trying to keep his frustration at bay. _"Yes my master,"_ was all he seemed to say to the old man. At least, when he was Anakin, there was rarely a need for formalities with his former master. He could outright call Kenobi an old man. If Vader was being completely honest with himself, a part of him missed the playful banter between him and his friends. It took the weight of the war and being the so-called Chosen One off of his shoulders, even if it was only for a few minutes.

But those days are over. No use in dwelling on a past that will never return to him, no matter how badly he might have wanted it to.

Vader blinked the thoughts away. He couldn't alert his master to the conflict within him. But as Sidious' eyes narrowed underneath his intimidating hood, Vader knew his thoughts, his _own private thoughts,_ hadn't gone unmonitored.

"I am going to meditate on this… something is rising, my apprentice. Something that should not be. You are in charge of the Fleet at the moment, Lord Vader. Find the Rebels, and draw them out of hiding. I expect a full report on your progress. Do not fail me." Palpatine announced sternly. He felt a slight a jolt of surprise in the Force coming from his apprentice, then stalked away to his quarters stealthily, trying to avoid confrontation of any Imperial officers. Lord Vader seemed oddly... _distracted,_ after learning about the survival of Anakin Skywalker's apprentice. Admiral Tarkin might need to pay a visit. Overseeing the construction of the Death Star would have to wait a few days.

He had matters to attend to.

—

Darth Vader, for once in his fifteen years of _being_ Darth Vader, was lost. He was completely, and utterly lost. Vader could have described himself many things. Emotionless, heartless, empty…

Lonely.

But lost didn't seem like one of them then. Apparently it did now. He had never felt so lost in his life. His main reason for _staying_ in the dark was because he felt he had nothing left to live for. But now... _now_ of all times, his past decided to come back and patronize him.

Lothal wasn't easy for him. Physically, Vader was perfectly fine. No suit malfunctions, no helmet punctures. The Rebels could've been destroyed in a matter of minutes, and they almost were. A few more hits and they would have ceased to exist. Simple.

And that's where Vader was emotionally unstable. His…former apprentice was alive, and in league with the Rebels he had been working to destroy. He had already informed his master, and another Inquisitor had been dispatched to hunt her, along with the rest of the Rogues down. But…was it right? The small piece of Anakin left in Vader screamed that it was absolutely _wrong._ That his hatred and pain had continuously clouded his judgement. That he should forgive her. That he should stand by her. But that was something he couldn't bring himself to do. He was in too deep to back out now.

 _She was your best friend,_ a voice in his head argued. _She was your sister._

Vader winced, and his loneliness increased at that particular thought. Even during the Clone War, where blood was shed and lives were lost, he had a family. He had a sister who held his sanity, a brother who held his strength, and a wife who held his heart. When everything fell apart…when _he_ caused everything to fall apart...he felt like a black hole of nothingness with no purpose. Without his master, he had no reason to exist. So the dark became his family. Yes, he knows both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are alive. But they held _Anakin's_ strength, and _Anakin's_ sanity.

And Anakin hasn't been alive for fifteen years.

Some days, when his master wasn't present, Vader wished Anakin was still alive. So he could step into the blinding, welcoming light. But for the last decade and a half there had always been a dark leash wrapped around his legs, preventing the light from claiming him. The dark had tripped him, mocked him, and molded him until he couldn't care less about it. Before finding out about his apprentice's survival, Vader felt that the light had nothing left to offer. The Light Side didn't even have his old _appearance_ to offer. Now, doubt leaked into his hollow, shell of a mind, and machinery leaked into his broken, shell of a body.

Some days, when his master wasn't present, Vader wished Anakin had left the Jedi Order alongside his apprentice. He wished that Anakin had chosen differently. That way, he wouldn't have fallen prey to Palpatine's manipulation. That way, he could have had his child with his wife, and lived in peace with his friends by his side. That way he wouldn't have been lonely.

Vader forcefully pushed the stinging memories aside, and tried to focus on the task at hand. His master would handle the evident disturbance in the Force, and he would assist only when necessary, though he cared little about the outcome. He needed to lead the Imperial Fleet, locate the Rebels, and crush them.

And then turn his former apprentice to his side. Not out of pure villainy, no. He would never forgive himself, let alone _live_ with himself, if he turned his sister to something she wasn't just because his master demanded him to. No, he wouldn't do it for his master. But because he needed someone.

Because he was lonely.

—

Deep in his meditative state, Lord Sidious felt... _power._ Seething power. His demeanor as the great Emperor Palpatine was long gone, and his hands crackled with blue electricity. Even with his eyes shut tightly, Sidious felt the darkness surrounding him in the Force, the beautiful unbalance that he had pleasantly felt for fifteen, glorious years.

Sidious made it simple. It was like a balancing scale, the Force being the scale itself. Light on one side, dark on another. With the foolish Jedi eradicated, the scale tipped in the favor of the dark. And Sidious _drenched_ in the clear darkness.

However, this disturbance in the Force, the main reason why he was meditating in the _first place,_ was neither tipping in the light nor the dark's favor. Perhaps that remained to be seen, and the fate of the dark and light side remained to be sealed.

As the dark haze swirled around Sidious' hooded form, he stretched out into the Force, and tried to get some sort of location from where the disturbance was centered. His vision through the Force was oddly distorted, and his senses were severely dulled. But he noticed something.

 _Red._ So much red. It only lasted for a few seconds, that anyone could have missed it. But he wasn't _just_ anyone. He was the most powerful being in the galaxy. The red wasn't blood. However, it was as if the only possible color that could be seen through his eyes was red.

It may not seem that important to most. But Sidious took any clue he could receive. He dug deeper into the dark side of the Force, relishing in it, scraping for any traces of the disturbance he'd been looking for. Images flashed and played themselves into his mind, faster than he would have wanted them to. Fortunately, he was still able to identify a few of them. Some images had some significance and others didn't. He saw a planet. Full of green. Full of life.

 _Disgusting._

That was the first thought that popped up in Sidious' head after seeing this planet. Too much life on a planet had tended to... _revolt_ him. Hence why he never spent much time on his homeplanet, Naboo. The image quickly blinked itself from his vision, and a new one took its place just as quickly. Though this one was much clearer.

And much darker.

He saw an…explosion. A shuttle plummeting hundreds of thousands of feet out of the air into an ocean, after a violent detonation. Water met fire. Sidious searched his memories for a familiar scene, as he remembered something…

The image once again changed. Sidious scrunched his eyes tighter in frustration, and concentration. He had to dig deeper, go further. He was close. Very close.

He saw... gray. But it wasn't like how he saw the red. No, this gray was the color of an object.

A mask.

It most definitely wasn't anything like Lord Vader's mask. This mask was elliptical, pointed at the sides. The mask was...rusted almost, with the gray fading.

Sidious then saw hundreds of these masks, and more of them being manufactured. And even after fifteen years, he recognized them in a second.

 _Grievous._

Sidious' eyes snapped open. He stood from his meditative position and outstretched one of his hands to unlock the control panel. He called the closest Imperial officer over, and he was deeply amused to see the officer trembling in the Dark Lord's presence.

"Summon Lord Vader. I have news for him," the Emperor demanded. The officer nodded and hurried away to find his apprentice. Sidious was anxious. This threat needed to be eliminated. And fast. Almost immediately after the officer departed, Vader entered his chambers.

"Yes my master?" Vader questioned nervously. Too nervous for him.

The Emperor turned his body away from Vader, facing the floor to ceiling window, which reminded him of his previous office as Chancellor. "I have found the answer, my apprentice," Sidious stated in a matter of fact way.

"An old foe has risen once again."

—

 ** _So I decided to add Star Wars Rebels into this story, so it basically starts right after Siege of Lothal, but I promise it won't be the main focus. Grievous will be obviously. The reason I didn't have Vader care too much about Grievous' presence was because I wanted him to seem unstable and stressed out in this chapter, so that later on if he and Grievous end up confronting one another, he'll be more volatile and won't necessarily have a clear state of mind._**

 ** _Remember, this chapter, along with the previous one, is only a prologue to the story! After this, there will be much longer chapters. I'll try and update soon._**


	3. author's note

author's notes: i sincerely apologize for the long wait for this story. i started chapter three but i had a total writer's block last year, and now that i look back on it, the chapter, as well as the previous two, need serious editing and revising. i'll try to get the third chapter by the time school ends, but i don't know if i can make any promises due to a lot of important tests the next few weeks. but stay tuned, this story is not discontinued ;)

should anyone have any recommendations for how this story should continue, feel free to review some ideas.


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